


close to him

by vvelna



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: (i mean i guess?), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Clones, Doppelganger, Flash Fic, Horror, M/M, Murder, Spooky Happenings, i'll take unoriginal concepts for 500 alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvelna/pseuds/vvelna
Summary: Dan killed his clone. Or did he?





	close to him

**Author's Note:**

> written for PFF halloween flash fest. i went the spooky/scary route rather than the halloweenish (this time...so many more halloween-related fics i'd like to write someday...)

He laughed and talked like Dan. He smelled like him and felt like him. He looked like him—down to every last freckle, wrinkle, and blemish. But Phil was not sure he was Dan.

Three weeks had passed since Phil came home to find Dan kneeling on the floor over a body that looked just like him, his face ashen, lips forming unvoiced words. His hands were open, like they were waiting to catch something.

Whenever he closed his eyes, Phil saw livid bruises on a long neck lying strangely pliant between head and shoulders. He saw Dan’s eyes—the vacant, partially lidded ones fixed forever on a point somewhere to the left of the living Dan’s right elbow, and the ones in the living Dan’s head—pupils nearly eclipsing his irises, gaze locked on the body before him.

Dan had often said that if he met his clone, some primal instinct would take over, and he’d kill it. Phil hadn’t thought they’d ever get to test that theory. He was pretty sure Dan hadn’t either.

They shoved the body in a suitcase. (The arms kept flopping out when they tried to close it. Phil felt like they were being taunted.) They discussed disposing of it together, once they'd formulated a proper plan. Phil woke up the next day and found Dan in the kitchen, making pancakes (to cheer Phil up, he said, with a smile). The suitcase was gone.

“Don’t worry, I took care of it. I don’t want you to get any more involved in this mess than you have to.” He held Phil’s face in his hands, and his eyes were warm.

Life went on…too easily. Phil chose to assume that the trauma of meeting and killing his doppelgänger was too much for Dan to process. It was certainly too much for him. Sometimes, when Dan moved to touch him, he recoiled internally. His mind set off alarms, his heart hammered and sought an escape route through his chest. Externally, he flinched only slightly. Dan probably didn’t even notice.

Phil’s mind played tricks on him. Sometimes he saw Dan out of the corner of his eye, and he was too tall, head brushing the ceiling. Or he had too many limbs, like branches with hands for leaves. Or his mouth was open too wide, filled with rows of teeth like piano keys. Phil would whip his head around and Dan would be perfectly himself. Sometimes Phil couldn’t bear to turn around. He didn’t want to see. He’d close his eyes and wait for Dan to leave the room.

*

Phil let Dan hold him at night as they lay in bed. Dan’s arm felt heavy on top of him, like it could crush him. Like if he let it stay there for too long, it would sink through his flesh and bones, cleaving straight to the mattress. He lay awake and tried to redirect his attention to more comforting things—the heat of Dan’s body, the soft movement of Dan’s chest against his back as he breathed in and out, the slight tickle of Dan’s breath on the back of his neck.

It was Dan. Phil was shaken from what had happened, but somewhere inside, he knew. How could he not? The body he’d seen lying on the floor was not Dan. It was an impressive imitation, but that was all. The more he thought about it, the less it looked like Dan in his memory. The hair color was a few shades too dark. The hands were too small, the knuckles too pronounced. The lips were an incorrect shade of pink. And the neck…it just wasn’t right at all.

The man lying so close to him had to be Dan.

*

Phil awoke alone again, his brain hazily clinging to his dreams before they faded away. Something about Dan. He was in danger. But that wasn’t right—Dan had taken care of the danger. He found his glasses and phone. It was well past noon.

He heard the familiar sound of their front door opening, and a familiar voice called out.

“Phil? Where are you? You’re not still asleep?”

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold beneath his feet and he wished he’d slept in his socks.

“Phil?”

His throat felt tight and dry. He’d just go meet Dan, instead of yelling to him. Dan was probably already heading to the bedroom; they could meet in the middle.

Phil’s hand was on the doorknob when he heard another voice, as familiar as the first.

“I’m in the kitchen, Dan!” 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :O ooooOOOooooOoo
> 
> [ like/reblog on tumblr ](https://velvetnautilus.tumblr.com/private/179505733705/tumblr_phajvkp8ii1wm9q5f)


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